


Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness

by themantlingdark



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 14:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: Fall fluff for this prompt from thejammys:Thor works on a farm that sells pumpkins. Loki starts coming every day to buy a pumpkin but NONE OF THEM ARE GOOD ENOUGH but really it’s bc he can’t afford to keep buying pumpkins and needs an excuse to come and see Thor





	Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thejammys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejammys/gifts).

Summer’s fruits and vegetables had sold high and well, but pumpkin prices across the country had started low and only fallen from there. Foot-high jack-o’-lanterns were selling at supermarkets for as little as two dollars. They were a high-maintenance, nutrient-hungry crop that most often meant a loss--unless you’d been keen enough to cater to the autumn fandom and the fall wedding crowd through Instagram and Pinterest, which Thor had. 

It didn’t hurt that he’d adopted a small army of retired dairy cows who cranked out manure that could be composted into fertilizer for the greedy pumpkin crop. The cows were sweet, playful, and friendly, and for a small fee that went toward their keeping, visitors to Thor’s farm could--and did--hand feed them and spend as much time as they liked petting them and sitting with them in their quiet pasture. 

A beautiful old stable, long empty of horses, made up Thor’s shop. Its walls were bright red with white trim, nostalgic and photogenic, and its brick floors scraped pleasantly beneath hard leather heels. 

Berries and leafy greens were gone now, but attractive groupings of autumn goods filled every stall in their stead. There were corn stalks bound with bright ribbon standing beside frilled wreaths of wheat, meant to decorate front doors and porches. Hay bales small enough to fit into the trunks of even the tiniest sedans were piled below tables covered in rows of colorful gourds, all cleaned up to keep them from dirtying shoppers’ clothes. Plump apples in brown paper sacks sat beside tubs of caramel dip, promising a snack that was half wholesome, half sinful, and wholly satisfying. There were candles scented with pine and clove stacked in pretty glass jars, poured by Thor when there was nothing else to do in the dead of winter. Refurbished finds from garage sales and flea markets glittered from the walls and shelves and lined the long kitchen island that passed for a checkout counter. They were a popular pick for centerpieces and, being recycled, appealed to those trying to go green. But above all there were pumpkins, bright, round, and heavy, with piles of seeds in their bellies. Specimens from every variety were grouped by color, shape, and size--down to the centimeter--to make them easy to pick for harried brides and grooms to-be and hurried planners on the hunt for wedding decor. 

Loki could never decide what he wanted. Or, rather, he wanted everything, but even one pumpkin was, realistically, out of his price range, and would probably be dangerous to carry home on his bicycle anyway. 

Instead, he took pictures. By the hundreds. Of the beautiful displays, to be sure, which many of the other shoppers did as well. These he edited heavily, punching up the yellows, blacks, and oranges so that the shots felt more like fall, then posting them and tagging them until they served as free advertising for the farm. But, when the angle was right and he was unobserved, he took photos of the farmer. He would often try to edit them, but his changes rarely improved the image and he generally discarded the tweaks and reverted to the original. At most, he’d crop the shots so that Thor, the sunny blond Adonis hidden here in the boondocks, occupied the bulk of the frame. Loki didn’t post these to Instagram or Pinterest or any other place, but saved them for himself, revisiting them on the larger screen of his laptop and discovering all the details he’d missed when he’d been in a hurry to avoid detection.

In one, there was hay stuck in the back of Thor’s hair, just above the loose, shining bun into which it had carelessly been pulled. In another, the rolled up sleeves of Thor’s chambray shirt won Loki’s deep gratitude and admiration for the way their soft, crumpled fabric revealed skin that still held the summer’s sun, both in its tan and in the fine hair that had been bleached gold. They were quite strong arms. Hurling bales of hay into mangers for the cows took muscle. Pumpkins were awkward and heavy, and Thor had hoisted thousands of them onto a wagon in the past two months. Their unwieldiness was the only thing keeping Loki from stealing them. 

In September Loki had only allowed himself to visit the farm on weekends when it was the busiest and he could blend in. But now midterms were over and his favorite season was well on the wane. In December, Thor’s shop would switch over to online sales of candles only, and he wouldn’t be selling produce again until May, which would be limited to asparagus and rhubarb on weekends from 8 AM to 2 PM. Regular hours wouldn’t resume until June.

This was Loki’s third visit in as many days. He was running out of questions to ask. On Wednesday he’d inquired about the lifespan of carved pumpkins, as if Google didn’t exist and his phone’s outline wasn’t worn into his jeans. He’d forgotten Thor's answer even as it had been given, hearing only the rough, low voice and watching the full lips that shaped it, thinking how chapped they looked and how he’d like to press balm onto them with his own. On Thursday, he’d asked whether or not any of the knobby, streaky gourds were even the least bit edible. Thor had said that, sadly, they were not, but if he was looking for more color and fun shapes that could be eaten, acorn and butternut squashes were good bets. Thor had then told him how to cook them and had finally taken his leave with a grin that looked like it was on the cusp of laughter. Loki had left without buying anything once again.

“Anything I can help you with today?” Thor asked, and Loki froze where he was staring at a small, smooth pumpkin. 

“Do these carve well?” Loki asked, after several beats of blankness.

“They do, but it’s a bit of a shame to carve a sugar pumpkin. They’re actually worth eating. And they’re too small for more complicated designs. Here,” Thor said, guiding Loki along with one hand at the small of his back. “Jack-o’-lanterns are in this stall.” 

Loki’s attention had been riveted to the point of contact as they’d walked and he’d missed most of what Thor had been saying about edibility. Something about feed or seeds, or possibly both.

“They’re so... lumpy,” Loki said, staring down at the shining pumpkin to which Thor had led him, studiously avoiding Thor’s gaze to keep from tumbling into two ludicrous blue eyes like Alice down twin rabbit holes. He also wasn’t quite sure he could lie directly to Thor’s face and thought it best not to try. 

Compared to a sugar pumpkin, anything was lumpy. The grooves in the jack-o’-lanterns were deeper, it was true, but not by much. And Thor had rotated them all summer to avoid the pale, rough, flat patches that came from lying on one side. That effort was reflected in their price. 

“And they’re tall,” Loki complained. “Are there wider ones this size? More like the Cinderella shape?”

“You could carve a Cinderella if you wanted,” Thor mused, narrowing his eyes and tipping his head. “It’d be a little tricky to hollow it out, but you’ve got slim hands and long fingers.”

“They’re,” Loki began, and left his mouth hanging open. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to talk about his hands or the pumpkins. “Even lumpier than the jack-o’-lanterns,” he finished.

“True,” Thor nodded, smiling. “Just carve a sugar pumpkin with the classic triangle nose and eyes and a crescent smile. It’ll be smooth and sweet and cute. And in good company,” he winked, then nudged Loki lightly with his elbow and went off to help a customer at the counter while Loki’s cheeks smoldered.

On Saturday night the farm held a Halloween party and costume contest and had a row of food trucks at the far side of the parking lot. Jack-o’-lanterns carved with rolling eyes and toothy grins flickered from the edges of the sidewalk that led to the shop.

Thor was stuck at the cash register all evening and Loki was still broke, so there was no hope of getting close enough to ask a stupid question--or to take a decent photo. Loki sensed that his desire for dozens of fat, colorful pumpkins was about to give way to an intense longing for a camera with a telephoto lens. 

He had wanted to come to the party as a ghost. The anonymity and ease held great appeal, but he didn’t want to damage his sheets. Instead, he folded his top sheet to form a Greek chiton, then cut snowflakes from copy paper stolen from the library’s printers and stitched them loosely to the fabric with his mending kit to make a snowstorm. 

Thor had no costume, which came as a relief to Loki. There was nothing spectacular for him to compete with--and nothing to obscure Thor’s face. Thor was wearing a nicer shirt than he normally did. A deep burgundy button down with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was loose and wavy and seemed to glow beneath strings of fairy lights and flame-shaped bulbs from the dozens of vintage chandeliers that hung from the rafters. 

Loki was taking measured sips of water from a Nalgene bottle he’d brought from home and listening to the fiddler who was playing beside the barn when a warm, heavy arm closed around his shoulders. He saw fingers fluttering at the edge of his vision, asking for the bottle. Loki handed it over and Thor replaced it with a bowl of hot, buttery mac and cheese from a food truck. Loki tucked into it the second his thanks had left his lips.

“So, who should win the costume contest?” Thor asked.

Loki hummed while he chewed and scanned the crowd. There was an impressive Maleficent, complete with the facial prostheses. A bubbly jellyfish had been made with a clear umbrella and trains of gathered fabric that swayed as its wearer walked. It caught Loki’s eye again and again and made him envy its simplicity. Another guest had so convincingly dressed as Chris Fleming that Loki had checked six separate times to try to determine if it was just Fleming sans costume. 

“The bat armor from _ Bram Stoker’s Dracula,” _ Loki said finally. “It must have taken forever. Looks like the real thing.”

“Oh shit, I hadn’t seen that one yet. Good call. Thanks.”

Loki thought there was a sound system he’d somehow missed, then realized Thor’s voice carried easily in silence. His face had stopped the words on everyone’s lips. Loki couldn’t work out whether it was lovely or sad that human beings were so enthralled by beauty that they could lose their thoughts and language to it. But, in Thor’s case at least, it felt warranted. As if it were his due. To his left, Loki heard someone ask, “Who’s he supposed to be? The perfect man?” and a gaggle of people laughed and chimed in to agree. Loki vaguely wanted to chuck bricks at them.

Loki’s water bottle was still flashing in Thor’s hand. The prize was cash, and Loki briefly wished he’d put more effort into his costume, but supposed he would have been unlikely to break even. Then Thor was thanking everyone for coming and the food trucks were doing a last call. 

“You mind staying here tonight, Lo?” Thor asked, sliding his arm around Loki’s shoulders again, but in a way that was more grounding. Immobilizing. Insistent.

“I-” Loki felt like the dog that caught the car.

“You’re giving me an ulcer going back and forth from here to campus on that fucking bicycle of yours.”

“It’s-”

“It’s bad enough that you do it in daylight,” Thor continued. “People drive like idiots around here as it is. Sixty, seventy miles an hour on narrow country roads. Lots of blind curves. And now it’s dark. And they’re not expecting a cyclist.”

“But how did you know it was-”

“You?” Thor asked, jostling Loki as he rolled his eyes. “The shaggy black Beatles wig,” Thor squinted. “Did you dye your brows and lashes too, or use mascara?”

“Brows are dyed,” Loki admitted, “lashes are mascara.”

“And the Buddy Holly glasses--do you even need glasses?”

“No.”

“And the high voice--which is amazing, by the way--all hide a lot, but did you really think I wouldn’t be able to pick you out of a line-up seven billion long?”

“But you haven’t seen me in months,” Loki whined, “and I changed so much.”

“Yep,” Thor nodded. “And you’re still one hundred percent my little idiot brother. Dipshit.”

Loki looked down at the bit of straw that was stuck in his shoelaces and scraped at it with his toe.

“What else do you want to eat before the food trucks leave?” Thor asked.

“The beef brisket. And more mac and cheese.” 

“‘Kay. Go into the store. It’s warmer. There’s a stool behind the counter where you can sit down. Shut the doors behind you so we can close up soon.”

Loki sat swinging his legs beside the cash register, munching his dinner, which had expanded to include an apple with caramel and a cup of hot cider, while Thor rang up the last few customers. 

“Where’s your bike?” Thor asked, and they fetched it from the split rail fence Loki had chained it to and set it up in a barn stall like a horse for the night. Thor helped Loki out of his costume and they draped it over the handlebars.

Thor watched his brother’s light step bouncing ahead of him on their way to the house. The outer edges of the soles of Loki’s sneakers were worn down from walking to and from classes.The laces had been replaced at least once. They were whiter than the rubber now, though the soles and toes had been washed and well-cared for. Loki’s jeans were soft and slightly loose with use and weight loss and not being washed. His hunter green sweater was well made. Wool. It was also at least as old as Loki was. A thrift shop find. Probably from the good one in the Quonset hut at the eastern edge of campus, not far from the neighborhoods where all the lawyers and doctors lived. 

“So, what did Dad do?” Thor asked, pouring water for them to drink and catching the pale flash of Loki’s slim waist as his t-shirt tried to follow his sweater up over his head. Thor watched the latter sail across the room to land on the sofa.

“How did you guess?”

They grinned, but tightly, and their gazes when hazy for a while.

“He decided I need to earn everything myself from now on--for my own good, of course. The whole pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps thing.”

“Coming from a man who inherited millions after his parents had already paid for everything.”

“Yep,” Loki nodded. 

“Cheap bastard.”

“Yep.”

Thor had been cut off--and officially cut out of the family--for following a football scholarship to an agricultural college and finding out he preferred farming to the needlessly complex and impenetrable language of law. Unofficially, he still talked to his mother and brother almost every day.

“Hasn’t Mom helped you out?”

“She’s offered,” Loki admitted, “but I don’t want to bug her if it isn’t an emergency. I just-” Loki took a shaky breath and sipped water while he waited for his throat to relax. “What the fuck is she still doing with him?”

“Honey, I have no idea. She said she wants him to have time to think his way out of the deep shit he’s gotten himself into. Doesn’t want to hand him an ultimatum and have him go through the motions to appease her.”

“I wish she’d just hand him divorce papers.”

“Yeah, I’ve been wishing that since I was about six,” Thor agreed. “I don’t know how she can still care after all the crap he’s pulled.”

“Exactly. It feels like she loves someone who isn’t here anymore.”

“I know,” Thor nodded. “I hate the thought of her wasting her time waiting on him.” 

Loki drained his drink and leaned back against the counter, kneading his hands and peeling chapped skin from his lower lip with his teeth. 

“I kept wondering what you were up to,” Thor said, stepping in front of Loki and tipping his chin up with one warm finger.

“When?”

“Since you moved here in September. I knew something was going on when you were only six miles away and wouldn’t let me visit.” Thor carefully removed the glasses from his brother’s face and Loki sighed and teased off his wig. “There you are,” Thor smiled. Loki lowered his eyes, looking somewhere near Thor’s navel, but didn’t pull away or fuss as Thor removed the cap and pins that held his hair flat. Thor watched his brother’s eyes close as he loosened the curls that were already fighting their way back from Loki’s flat-ironing that morning. “Never would have guessed, but black hair suits you as well as blond does.”

“Yeah?” Loki asked, eyes still closed, letting his head sway beneath the brushing and combing of Thor’s fingers.

“Mmhm.” 

For all Loki had to be embarrassed about, he was bearing up well. He’d had the bad luck of revealing himself with a disguise, which was awkward enough. Having the motive for said disguise made obvious--to its object, no less---was the blow Thor was most proud to see his brother weather. A boy as strong as spider silk, with the same illusion of fragility. 

Thor supposed he might have some right to be pleased with himself for how he was taking it too. He had long been under the impression that he was something hard, believing it was synonymous with strength. But it seemed he was flexible too. So they were twin orb weavers dancing easily across their web while the flies and gnats got caught in it. 

Still, it wasn’t entirely news to Thor. He’d seen this thread running through their lives. Now he knew it was the warp, not the weft. 

“Your house is small,” Loki said.

“Yep. And old.”

“I like it. Feels like a home instead of a bunch of... separate cells.”

“Exactly,” Thor nodded, picturing the sprawling labyrinth of rooms, halls, and stairways they’d grown up in. 

“And it’s warm,” Loki approved.

“Even warmer when there’s a fire going.”

“Mm.”

“Tired?”

“No.”

“Wanna help me put the cows to bed?”

“Kay,” Loki shrugged.

The cows were already waiting in the barn, having slipped through the long strips of plastic sheeting that hung in the southern doorway to block insects and wind. Thor swung the dutch doors shut and bolted them while the cows swarmed behind him, nudging him and lowing softly.

“Do you have candy in your pockets or something?” Loki asked.

“No, but there are apples in the fridge in that tack room by the front door and they want me to get my ass over there. This is why they come back from the pasture on their own every night.”

“Nice.”

After the snacks had been distributed, Thor called Dolly and she came trotting over to meet him for her turn under the curry comb and bristle brush.

“They have names?” Loki asked.

“Of course they have names. I’m not an asshole.”

“Are you going to brush all of them?” Loki asked, wondering if he’d be sitting in the barn with the grassy-sweet stink of cow shit until two in the morning.

“No, just two or three a night. They go in alphabetical order.”

“Which is?”

“Aretha, Babs, Bette, Billie, Cher, Chrissie, Dolly, Ella, Joni, Judy, Liza, Mariah, Nina, Tina, and Whitney.

“Thor.”

“What?”

Loki snorted and shook his head. 

They were Brown Swiss cows with no loud patterns for Loki to memorize. He could tell the largest and smallest cows apart from the others, but beyond that, he was lost.

“There are more brushes in that cupboard if you want to call Ella.”

“Fine,” Loki huffed, but he was smiling and he went about the task of grooming her gently and at an unhurried pace, ever the mush-hearted perfectionist. Thor snuck a few photos with his phone and sent them to their mother.

Dolly and Ella were gleaming when they pranced back into the herd and sank into the straw for the night.

On the way back to the house, Thor veered off to one side. “This way,” he said, and Loki followed gingerly in the dark, blind and without bearings, until Thor took his hand and led him around the yard. They paused as Thor grabbed something from inside an ottoman on the patio. 

“Where are we going?”

“Just past the row of pines.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see.”

Loki listened as the sound of leaves crunching underfoot thinned and gave way to the whisper of grass. Beyond the trees, the sky opened overhead, blue-black and huge, heavy with stars. Loki heard a soft flapping sound and then the vague shadow that Thor was fell to the ground with a sigh.

“Come on,” Thor said, patting the blanket beside him until Loki was lying there. 

It wasn’t more than two minutes before they saw a streak of light.

“The Orionids,” Loki remembered.

“Peak was a few days ago, but they’re still going strong.”

After ten minutes, Loki’s teeth were chattering and his whole body was vibrating. Thor scooped him closer and tucked him into his side. 

“Fold the blanket up over yourself,” Thor said, and Loki did so, cocooning himself beside his brother, feeling the welcome heat of Thor’s biceps beneath his neck where the cold ground had been.

“Don’t worry,” Thor soothed, flexing his arm a little to jostle Loki gently. “The hot water heater is only a year old, and the bathtub upstairs is practically a swimming pool.”

Loki hummed and relaxed and decided not to cut their stargazing short. Thor’s warmth was beginning to envelop him with the blanket to hold it in.

“Do you think Dad knows that you never stopped talking to me and Mom?”

“Probably,” Thor said, with a tiny shrug. 

“Has he gotten in touch with you at all since…”

“Nope,” Thor said softly. He felt Loki’s arm tighten slightly around his waist. “I think he thought I’d change my tune. Step in line and beg to be taken back. Probably still waiting. Who knows.”

When Loki started nodding off Thor nudged him up and herded him into the house to warm up on the sofa beneath an electric blanket.

The whistle of the tea kettle startled Loki--and baffled him, as it was late to be drinking caffeine. The store opened at ten on Sunday mornings, and the cows would be wanting their breakfast before that. Thor probably should have been in bed already.

“Come on,” Thor said, and Loki followed him up the stairs. 

He watched as Thor poured the boiling water from the kettle over the enamel of the cast iron tub, warming it so that it wouldn’t cool the bathwater or chill Loki’s back where he rested against it. The tap squeaked and the pipes groaned as the faucet gushed into the basin, cold for a moment, then steaming. Thor flipped the drain up to trap only hot water.

“Try that,” Thor said, when it was more than half full. “I don’t think there will be much room left after you climb in. You’re almost as tall as me now.”

“But only half as wide.”

“Are you really going to bitch about being built like a model?” Thor asked, taking his arm out of the tub and flicking water at Loki with his fingers. “You can buy everything off the rack. I have to get it all tailored. The only upside to this bulk is that it’s warm.”

“Fine, I win,” Loki grinned, then scrambled out of his clothes and into the bath.

After college, Thor had gone pro. Loki had been pissed off about it, jealous of the way it gave strangers the mistaken belief that some part of Thor belonged to them. Loki had shut down any mention of football when he and his brother were together. He had, however, enjoyed the way that fame forced Thor to go to great lengths to keep their forbidden meetings clandestine.

“Do football-noobs get paid well?” Loki asked. “Or do agents eat up everything and leave you to hope for endorsements?”

“You don’t need an agent as much these days. Especially if you know what you’re worth. And there are limits. Only so much money in the pot. Early draft picks get the biggest pay. Late ones get a lot less. This year’s last pick, ‘Mr. Irrelevant,’ signed a four year deal for under a million, and only seventy thousand of that was guaranteed, which is fucking abysmal.”

“Was that you?”

“No,” Thor laughed. “But thanks for the confidence. Turd.”

“So were you a high pick then?”

“I was.”

“_And?_” Loki drawled.

“_And _ I’m retired already, if that’s any indication.”

“How retired?”

“_Very._”

“Then why are you still working?” Loki whined, rolling his eyes and laying back in the tub with a splash.

“I play with cows and pumpkins all day. It’s a pleasure.”

“But you have to get up every morning.”

Thor doubled over laughing. It took him almost a minute to settle and sit up again. “Instead of afternoon?”

Loki nodded and sank under the water, sending his bony knees up into the air until he surfaced again with a sputter and dried his eyes. Thor handed him the shampoo and went downstairs.

Loki wanted to sulk about being put in the guest room, but the bed was soft, the comforter was thick, and Thor had tucked a hot water bottle beneath the blankets while Loki had been stewing in the tub. He fell asleep instantly. 

He remembered his intention to be angry when he woke, but couldn’t manifest any ill will. The sun was bright and the leaves of the white ash out the window were filtering the light, turning everything gold. All the trees were peaking. Reds, oranges, and yellows sprayed like fireworks above the fields.

Loki stole clean underwear from his brother’s dresser and put on yesterday’s clothes, adding one of Thor’s enormous hoodies over his sweater. A note on the kitchen counter directed him to breakfast, which he wolfed down before rushing out the door.

It was the last weekend before Halloween, and people were busy buying up discounted decorations. Thor was swamped, but cheerful. Loki stuck his favorite pumpkins behind the counter with his brother to keep them from going out the door, then set off to see the girls. 

Old gumball vending machines had been filled with feed pellets and people were cranking quarters through them and offering their cupped palms to the cows. Loki’s pockets were empty, so he took pictures with his phone before heading back to the patio to grab the blanket. 

Past the line of pine trees, the grass was still flat from where they’d been stargazing. It looked like a place deer had bedded down for the night. Loki went further afield to stretch out beneath a maple that had gone fluorescent coral and was coyly shedding its leaves in a weeks-long striptease. They rained down around him and made dry, scuffing sounds as they drifted onto the grass. 

He had intended to try reading, but to seal himself up inside a world that would still be there tomorrow struck him as a waste of a perfect day. His favorite season would turn a corner soon. Perhaps tonight. The air already bore the chill of winter whenever the sun was away. The tops of some trees were bare, and it had been days since he had seen any bees.

After an hour, the squirrels and chipmunks had accepted Loki as a feature of the landscape and resumed their feast. They butted him and brushed up against him, yanking the helicopter casings of maple seeds out from under him, then stuffing themselves with the meat. His first bout of giggling had sent them scrambling away amid a roar of crunching leaves, but, by the third time, they’d learned the laughter was no threat. 

At four, Thor found his brother supine under the tree beneath a chipmunk. The tiny creature was perched on Loki’s hip, taking advantage of all it offered: a view unobstructed by grass and leaves, a source of heat, and a lack of appeal to birds of prey due to its being part of a boy.

By five, Loki was wearing one chipmunk to Thor’s three. He felt vaguely slighted, as he had been lying there far longer, but he supposed there was some probability in it given Thor’s greater surface area.

To shoo anyone away was unthinkable, so the brothers waited until they were devoid of rodents before they staggered into the house, stiff from hours spent lying motionless on the cold, hard ground. 

Loki face-planted on the sofa and Thor laid the electric blanket on his brother’s back to thaw him out until the fire was strong enough to take over.

“No classes tomorrow, right?” Thor asked.

“Right.”

“Work-Study though?”

“Yeah, but not until two.”

Thor’s shop was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so there would be no need for either brother to rush out the door in the morning.

Loki woke to the shifting of his own body against the couch cushions as Thor nudged his ass with his heel, rocking him awake. 

“White Russian?” Thor asked, offering a tumbler.

“I’m not twenty-one.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But you’re old enough to vote and you’re not going to be driving, so you’re good in my book. Does hot cocoa sound better? Or some cider?” 

Loki took the glass and tried a sip, then raised his eyebrows in approval and took another.

Thor had dragged two armchairs close to the hearth. The brothers sank into tufted leather that had been warmed and softened by the fire.

“It’s good,” Loki said, swirling his drink.

“Seemed up your alley.”

“Like boozy ice cream.”

“Basically,” Thor agreed. 

Nothing was said when Loki inched his right leg over and dragged the outer edge of his foot across the tops of Thor’s toes. There was no flinch or retreat. No scolding, sickened kick.

He’d been brushing their stocking feet together for close to an hour before it occurred to him to sneak a peek at Thor’s face. Smooth and soft and faintly smiling. Rosy-cheeked, perhaps from the drink and the heat. 

Loki had been playing footsie with his brother for two hours by the time his belly growled. He wanted to shush it. He didn’t want to move. He had hooked Thor by the ankle and dragged the leg closer so that he could leave his own draped over it, rocking weakly, too tired to keep up the awkward petting he’d begun with his toes. He wanted to leave their limbs crossed like that and go to sleep. His head was heavy on his shoulders and all his skin was burning as if it lay in full summer sun. 

“Am I drunk?” Loki asked.

Thor was motionless for several seconds and Loki wondered if he’d only thought the words instead of asking them aloud. 

“No," Thor replied finally, seeming to return to himself from some great distance, slowly refilling his skin with thought and motion, straightening slightly in his seat. “It’s been out of our systems for,” he looked at his watch, “at least an hour now.”

Loki’s cheeks got hotter on learning he had no alcohol to act as accomplice.

“Dinner?” Thor asked, and Loki nodded and raised his right leg like a gate to let Thor go.

After they’d eaten, they went out to the barn to put the cows to bed. The chilly air, with its luminous veils of mist, was a welcome change, soothing their skin and waking them up. 

“Are my pumpkins still behind the counter?” Loki asked, when they’d finished grooming Joni and Judy and were heading back to the house.

“Yes,” Thor nodded, opening the door for his brother, who made no move to do so himself. Thor looked at Loki and narrowed his eyes. 

“What?” Loki asked.

“What is it with you and pumpkins?”

Loki bit his lip and traced a circle in the air with his hands as one would an hourglass. Thor nodded and hummed. 

“Does that preference extend to bellies?” Thor asked, tickling Loki’s flank, winning a tiny shriek and a squirm for his trouble.

“I’m not answering that,” Loki said, turning toward the kitchen.

“That’s a yes,” Thor said, catching him by the waist and hauling him back, closing him up in enormous arms.

The fire’s heat felt fresh and pleasant again when they resumed their place in front of it. Apart from kindling, Thor had only added one log for fuel. It was nearly spent now, sending up the odd tongue of flame, but mainly flickering, so that the charred wood glowed like candlelight through a pumpkin.

From the corner of his eye, Thor saw Loki’s hand lying palm-up on the armrest, only inches from his own, silently asking. He'd never seen such naked hope from his secretive little sibling before. To leave Loki's fingers empty felt dangerous and false. It would mean that something was lacking in Thor's love. That there was a gulf between the brothers, narrow, but deep. Bottomless. An impasse. 

Thor laced his fingers through Loki's and gave them a squeeze. 

A glance let Thor see the grin on his brother’s face. Wide, wet, and helpless, like the crescent moon showing her teeth. Loki’s whole world seemed to have been set to rights, and so simply. Thor felt as if he’d gone to pick a flower and pulled a mountain up instead.

When the embers had dimmed, Thor doused them with an old copper watering can, startling their ears with the hiss and filling the hearth with steam. Then he stood up on his toes and stretched, arms overhead and back arched, while Loki strained his eyes trying to find the hair at the base of his brother’s belly.

“Tired?” Thor asked. 

Loki only raised one shoulder in the faintest shrug.

“Bed?” Thor tried instead, and Loki stood.

Loki seemed--to Thor’s eyes, anyway--to float up the stairs: in near silence, never straining. He couldn’t remember ever feeling as light as Loki looked.

He followed suit as Loki shucked off his clothes and laid them on the bench at the foot of the bed. All the ribs and knobs of the spine peeked through Loki’s pale skin and called to Thor’s fingertips--and the pit of his stomach. He’d make them an enormous breakfast in the morning, but for now he’d stroke his brother’s thin back and say hello to every bone. Loki bellied up to him in bed with only the faintest invitation: Thor curled toward him on his left side and raised his right arm. Within three seconds, Loki was under Thor’s arm and was sliding his left leg between Thor’s thighs to pin himself in place.

Every stroke and press of Thor’s hand on Loki’s back served to pull Loki closer. It pushed the breath from Loki’s lungs a little faster in the process. Thor could hear it gusting past Loki’s lips and feel it warming his throat.

“Is this my underwear?” Thor asked, lightly tugging the band at the base of Loki’s back.

“Yeah.”

“Thank goodness,” Thor sighed. “You’re swimming in it. I was afraid you’d lost more weight than I realized.”

“I had to borrow boxer-briefs and a hoodie. Didn’t bring extra clothes with me. Wasn’t planning on spending the night.”

“Weren’t you?” Thor asked, raising one eyebrow.

Loki grinned and lowered his eyes.


End file.
